Who: Frank Castle & Pepper Potts When: July 5 (yeah, I'm late...) Where: A nice restaurant downtown What: Go on a date
Saturday had been so long. First, she'd had such problems waking up after Tony's party. It wasn't that she'd been drinking or anything, she just actually had a morning off and she never got to sleep in her fluffy bed so she enjoyed it as much as she could. Eventually though, she'd had to get up and see her mother which was as lovely as she could've possibly imagined. When she'd called to cancel with her mother, Siselly refused to accept it, turning their dinner date into a brunch so off Pepper trudged for the better part of the morning.
She'd refused to stay any later than four, and by five she was back at her apartment, trying to figure out what exactly she was going to wear. He'd mentioned a dress and she was going to deliver but everything she had was just so.... expensive; if he was scared of sitting on her couch, she didn't think he'd want to even go near her. Rummaging through her closet, she finally found a low cut, formfitting red dress that didn't scream expensive (even though it was) and her highest spike heels.
Before too long, she'd straightened her hair, applied her makeup perfectly, spritzed her perfume in all the right places and was ready to go. Walking the short distance to the restaurant, she decided to wait outside for him.
Frank was leaning against the alley wall opposite the restaurant when Pepper arrived. He watched her, taking his time to study the sweep of her long legs, the arch of her back, the way her hair caught the streetlights. She really was gorgeous. Much too good for him, that was for fucking sure. He snorted, reached beneath the black sports jacket he'd purchased earlier that day.
(And what a fucking fiasco that had been! All the salespeople were so helpful, so goddamned attentive. One girl had tried to sell him a royal blue shirt and some khaki slacks, which he had emphatically turned down. She'd finally let him go with black dress slacks, a black sports coat, and a black button down.)
After reassuring himself that both his guns were safely tucked away in shoulder holsters, he shoved his hands into his pockets and started across the street. His first impulse had been to just turn around and take off down the alley, but she looked so nice. It wouldn't be fair to stand her up.
It wasn't a cold night, for which she was thankful for, so she didn't mind waiting. She saw a few people she recognized, smiled politely but didn't engage in any conversation. She didn't want to talk to anyone.
Turning her head, she saw him coming, dressed all in black (naturally). At least I never have to worry about clashing. And then a sudden thought crossed her head: how was she supposed to greet him? A hug? God no. He didn't seem the hugging type. A kiss? Possibly. An awkward hello? Most likely.
She decided to follow his lead and just simply smiled in his direction.
Frank returned the smile, somewhat awkward as he took her hands and leaned in close to kiss her on the cheek. A lot of the newness of finding a woman attractive had worn off; she was still beautiful, of course, but he was able to think more clearly this time, and he was starting to wonder whether this had been a good idea or not.
"You look great," he murmured, offering her his arm and escorting her into the restaurant. "I like the red."
She smiled. She was worried that most of what she'd felt that night had stemmed from the alcohol, but she was pleased to feel those butterflies in her stomach when she felt his lips on her face.
"Thanks," she said, as they walked up to the maitre-d. She'd requested the most secluded place in the restaurant, not because she was ashamed or anything but she didn't want him to feel anymore uncomfortable than he already must feel.
Once seated, she looked at him, raised an eyebrow and said teasingly, "Okay, notes? Really? Are you secretly 17?"
Frank snorted and prodded the fancy shape they'd twisted his napkin into. There was a faint look of uncomfortable disgust on his face, but when he spoke, his voice was even. "I just wanted to say hello," he explained. "I didn't think you'd start a note war." He looked up at her, eyes darkly serious. "And you shouldn't joke about leaving your door unlocked. You don't know what might happen."
She rolled her eyes. "Well I didn't really. Unlock it that is. I was hoping I would hear you, but you're so quiet." She remembered what Clint had told her, last night, about the 'super soldier' thing, which would explain it but Pepper liked letting people tell her things. It didn't seem fair for her to impose what she thought she knew on them.
"It's my job to be quiet," he answered. A waiter placed a complimentary basket of bread on their table and Frank immediately tore into one of the small loaves. It was a hell of a lot better than the shit he usually ate, but he managed to retain some of his table manners. "Sorry if it pissed you off or anything. I didn't expect you to keep answering me."
"It was just," she searched the right word, "unexpected. But, worked out well." She leaned back in her chair, one perfectly manicured finger propping her chin up. "Besides, I've always hated that stationary and couldn't think of anything else to do with it."
"And," she continued, "on a completely unrelated topic, would you consider me an alcoholic if I ordered some wine for us? I swear, I really don't drink this often, but," she trailed off.
"Wine is fine," Frank answered. He didn't acknowledge her worries of appearing alcoholic, as he found them faintly ludicrous. "I prefer red." He looked around the restaurant, taking in all of the other patrons out of sheer habit. He had no fucking idea what to do on a dinner date, but he was sure that after much more of this, Pepper was going to get annoyed and just walk out on him.
She motioned the waiter to come over, ordered their best red wine and couldn't help but smile at his obvious discomfort. "We really didn't have to go somewhere like this," she said. "I just wanted an opportunity to talk to you and that could've been done anywhere."
"I know," he answered, somewhat surprised by the comment. He hadn't thought he looked that uncomfortable, but evidently he was sticking out like a sore thumb. "I would have felt bad taking you to a fucking burger joint, though."
"I have been known to eat a burger," she commented, "that didn't cost an arm and a leg. And yes, there are burgers out there that are more than a hundred dollars." The sommelier arrived, she approved the bottle, and he poured out two glasses. Taking it in hand, she swirled the liquid in the glass. "They're not any better or worse than Carl's Jr, mind you."
Frank arched an eyebrow, sniffed the wine, and took a small sip. He knew how to do that much at least. "Still. I wanted to take you somewhere nice," he said. His tone was defensive and sullen, but there wasn't much he could do about it. He had always been terrible at hiding his more negative emotions.
"Well, we're here and thank you for inviting me." She sat up straighter. "So smile. The hard part's over. You've got my undivided attention. Any idea how long it's been since just once person other than Tony has received that?"
Frank made a face and downed the rest of his wine, trying to chase the sour taste out of his mouth. He really should have expected her to talk about Stark at least once or twice, but it might have been nice to get some food on his stomach before they started in on the little prick. "Unfortunately, I don't have a lot to say that would interest you..."
"I doubt that." She took a small sip of her wine. She was determined to not get as drunk this time, at least not as quickly. "You seem like a very interesting individual. I'm afraid I would bore you. I don't do much other than work and being an executive secretary really doesn't enthrall many people."
"You seem like you're pretty intelligent," he said mildly. He arched an eyebrow and regarded her over the table, wishing that he knew what the fuck to say. He couldn't very well go with his typical conversation, which tended to be either about guns or explosives or, sometimes, both. "I bet you've got lots of shit to talk about."
She wrinkled a nose. "I suppose. I don't lead a very exciting life though. Would you like to hear Pepper in a nutshell?," she asked. He nodded. "Well, I grew up right outside of New York, went to Columbia, got a degree in Business and Political Science, applied for Stark Industries the summer I graduated and that's it. I told you, nothing exciting."
Frank shrugged, reaching out and smashing his napkin flat with the palm of his hand. What did she want him to say? Went into the Marines, qualified as a SEAL, went to Afghanistan, came home, family murdered, became a vigilante? No, it didn't really make for good dinner conversation. "Um." He cleared his throat and sighed. "I went to seminary school..."
She coughed on her wine. "Are you kidding me? Seriously? You kiss way too good to have almost been a priest."
Frank laughed for the first time that evening, loud and genuine and faintly surprised. "Honey, that was such a long time ago," he said, shaking his head. "I learned to kiss after I dropped out."
"I should hope so," she said, smiling. She was starting to like his names for her, even though she was convinced he probably threw them out to everyone. He said it way too casually for it to actually mean anything, but still. She'd take what she could get.
She saw the waiter hovering, so she brought him over, they ordered, and resumed their conversation. "So what happened after you realized the holy order wasn't for you?"
"I joined the military," he answered shortly, tearing a piece of bread in half and buttering it. "Marines." He cleared his throat and made a face, obviously not really interested in talking about it. He didn't want to bore her with the details of his military career.
Dead end. Fine, she could handle that. "Well, see? I told you, you're much more exciting than I am." She hadn't even touched any of the bread, just choosing to have her drink. What was it about first dates that were so stressful, even if you already were sure there was a connection?
"So," This was much harder than she'd anticipated. "You like stuff?" She grinned, twinkle in her eye. If all else failed, stick to bad pick up lines.
"I like... guns," Frank said, laughing a little under his breath. This entire date thing suddenly seemed very absurd to him. What the hell had he been thinking anyway?
He looked across the table and Pepper and mentally rolled his eyes. He hadn't been thinking, that was the problem. All he'd seen were long legs and red hair. "I'm sorry, this is really... bizarre, isn't it?"
She smiled widely. "It is. But Mr. Castle, I must say, I'm loving every moment." She reached out on the table and covered his hand with hers. "And I'm not just saying that. I must say, all of this? The random meeting, the notes -- though," she added, "if you ever do that again, I will not be as impressed. Just come in the house. I'm obviously not going to throw you out."
"Mm, that's kind of why I just left notes," he answered. He sat still for a moment, then flipped his hand over, gave her wrist a squeeze, and pulled away. "You're gonna have to be patient with me, sweetheart. I'm damaged goods."
"Everyone's damaged," she said, reaching for her glass again. "The tabula rasa always cracks eventually."
He stared at her for a second, unsure of how to take that. "Yeah. I guess so." A grimace twisted his lips and he might have said something he would have regretted later had a waiter not materialized with their food. Relieved and irritated and horribly fucking confused, he bent his head over his plate.
"I completely and utterly confused you didn't I?" She couldn't help herself; she suddenly felt very embarrassed and flush crept up her face. "It's been a while since I've had to talk to someone that isn't work-related. I think I've forgotten how to."
"I think we've got the same problem," Frank answered gravely. He'd never been much good at talking to people, but it was especially hard now that he was... well, now that he was The Punisher.
"Well, at least we both understand each other. Sort of." She sipped her wine and picked at her food. She really wasn't even that hungry, the butterflies in her stomach wouldn't even calm down, but he seemed to enjoy his meal so she tried to enjoy hers.
One of Pepper's faults was her complete honesty. It was making her feel odd to know that she knew all about him, without him even knowing, but how does one even bring that up?
Instead, she said "Have you been in New York long?"
"On and off," he answered carefully. "I was in the military for a long time, but my family lived in New York." He paused, fork halfway to his mouth, then blinked and kept eating. Let her ask if she wanted to. Better to scare her off now, when she wasn't all that attached to him.
"Oh really?" She said, stirring her food with her fork. "Where's your family now?" If he answered honestly, she could answer honestly.
Frank stared down at his plate, hating that his chest still felt heavy after two years. He stabbed his fork viciously into his steak, but when he spoke his voice was perfectly level. "They're dead."
"I know."
Frank's eyes blazed suddenly. "You know?" he snapped. "So... what? Have you been researching me, or just pretending you didn't know anything?"
Pepper tried to keep her face as impassive as possible. She'd dealt with situations like this before... well not exactly like this, but close enough. "I didn't research you, but I did ask a friend of mine if he'd heard your name before. He gave me more information than I wanted."
She sighed. "I didn't feel it was right for me to bring it up, because it's not my place to ask or say anything. It's your story to tell, no one else's."
"Yes, that's right," Frank growled, trying to calm himself down. Why shouldn't she have asked about him, after all? And it wasn't exactly like he'd tried to keep a low profile or anything. "Who did you talk to?"
Scrunching her nose up, she gave him an embarrassed smile. "Clint. But I swear, I didn't think he knew so much. I just figured, you know, with the S.H.I.E.L.D. connection..." She sighed. "I really like you Frank. I'm sorry I asked questions. I probably shouldn't have but well, I'm kind of well known for well.. knowing things. It's odd for me to deal with unknowns."
"I know," he said. He laid his fork down and pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. "I know. You probably could have read the same shit if you'd looked in a newspaper." Which, of course, meant that he didn't get to kick Barton's ass over this, although he was sorely tempted.
"Was it that public?" She'd never even considered to look into the newspaper. It probably could've avoided this whole mess if she had. Shows where your head is, Pepper.
"That's the one thing I hate and love about my job: I'm in the spotlight constantly."
"It was pretty public," Frank confirmed, lips twisting sourly. "Two years ago, so you'd have to dig, but it was there." He cleared his throat and shoved his plate away, trying to force a smile for her sake. "Not exactly the spotlight, though."
"The media is a bitch, regardless." She said, emptying her glass."
She tilted her head and smiled softly. "I made a real mess of this, didn't I?"
"No. I think we both did." Frank grimaced and leaned back in his seat, studying her face. Yeah, she definitely deserved better than him. "I think I'm probably still not ready for this..."
"I can understand that," she said. Taking a deep breath, she braced herself for what she was going to say. "Better than I think you know." She started to fiddle with her napkin nervously. "If I tell you something, do you promise not to tell anyone? Tony doesn't even know this.."
Frank arched an eyebrow and nodded his head slowly, not entirely sure that he wanted to hear what she had to say, but pretty fucking certain that it was something that she wanted to tell him. "I promise..."
"So when I was 18, I got married. High school sweetheart, you know how it is. We both went to Columbia together, life was perfect, we were going to have a baby.." God, she hadn't talked about this in years. "And then he got killed. Drive by shooting. Turns out stress can cause a miscarriage. Who knew," she smiled wryly.
Frank was quiet for a while, staring down at the table. He understood why she was telling him this, and in a strange way, he appreciated the gesture. "Did they catch the guys who did it?" he asked softly.
She shook her head. "Nope. Took me a few years to even get any insurance money. Seems an open investigation is good cause to stop anything." She stared off into the restaurant. "To be honest, that's probably why I immersed myself so much in my schoolwork, and when I got my job at Stark, well, the rest is history. It's been 10 years, Frank. And I still don't know if I'll ever be over it, but I try."
There was suddenly a burning desire in him to hunt the pricks down and hurt them for hurting her. It was why he'd never become a priest; he abhorred the thought of forgiveness. He did a few quick calculations in his head. It had been a long time, but that wasn't always a deterrent if you knew where to ask and who to ask.
"It's a hard thing to forget," he said absently.
"True, but what doesn't kill us makes us stronger," she tried to say cheerily. "Isn't that how the saying goes?"
"Anyways, now you know more about Pepper than most people do. Where do we go from here?"
"I should probably walk you home," he said, shooting her a stern look. He fully expected her to invite him in and, to be perfectly honest, he wasn't sure how he was going to take that. "Unless you had something in mind?"
"No, home is good. I'll show you how to use a doorknob." She smiled. "Then you won't have an excuse to not come in anymore."
"I have plenty of excuses," Frank answered sharply, standing and tossing a couple of bills on the table. It was more than enough to cover the bill as well as a substantial tip. What did he care, after all? It was Fury's money. "And don't get any ideas..." He winked at her and offered his arm.
Reaching for his arm, she laughed. "What kind of ideas?" Getting up, she was pleased to see that she could still walk in her heels. "Is there a certain kid I should be avoiding?"
"All of the ones that involve me coming back to your place tonight," he said grimly, sweeping her out of the restaurant. He dropped a quick kiss on the top of her head, noting with a faint smile that her hair smelled like flowers.
"I've been having those kinds of thoughts all week," she said, pulling herself closer to him.
The walk home wasn't very long, since Pepper had also picked this place due to its proximity to her house, and they both remained fairly quiet. Walking up to her door, she let herself in and flicked on the lights. "Does my place look different from the other side of the door," she joked, kicking her heels off.
He snorted, folding his arms and standing just outside. "I was in there not too long ago," he reminded her, a small smile on his face. The night hadn't been a total disaster, clearly. "Or did you forget about that already?"
She smiled, and reached out to him, pulling him into the place. "How could I forget it? It was one of the most interesting nights I've had in a long time." Closing the door behind him, she regretted having kicked her heels off, but she didn't let that stop her. Leaning up on her toes, she brushed her lips lightly on his. "Thank you for dinner."
"You're welcome," he answered, resisting the urge to wrap an arm around her waist and pull her closer. "I had a good time." He was mildly surprised to discover that he didn't have to lie even a little bit to get the words out. Even after all of the awkwardness, it had been an enjoyable evening.
"Good," she said, stepping down. "I did too." And now she had no idea what to do. It was odd, because the last time, the only reason she'd kissed him was to prove a point -- to herself or him, she didn't know. "You know," she said, trailing a finger down the front of his shirt, "I realize my foyer is absolutely delightful, but I have much nicer rooms in the actual living part of my home."
Frank sighed softly and took her hand, holding it slightly away from his chest. "Didn't I tell you that I wasn't coming in?" he asked, trying to sound stern and just sounding bemused. It had been a while since someone had actually ignored what he was saying.
"And yet look at you, in the house, door closed. I believe that's calling 'coming in'," she finger-quoted.
And even though it killed her to say it, she knew she had to. "Though, seriously, if you want to leave, you can. I don't want to force you to do anything you don't want to."
He smiled and leaned down, kissing her on the forehead. The truth was, he didn't want to leave, he wanted to stay until she kicked him out. But he also knew how his mind worked. "I just don't wanna fuck this up," he said carefully.
"Neither do I, but if there's nothing to fuck up, well, that's just a shame, don't you think?" She hadn't been this nervous in so long, it was a nice feeling. "Stay." Last time that didn't work, but she hoped it would this time.
He ducked his head and sighed, shifting back. "Sweetheart, you barely know me," he pointed out, frustrated with her for asking, and with himself for not being able to say no immediately. "You can't seriously want me to stay the night."
"And what if I do?" She was getting slightly annoyed at this, only because she hated begging for anything but she couldn't help herself. "Last time I checked, we're both adults, capable of making decisions. And," she added, "how are we going to know it's a bad one if we don't try?"
"I already know," he answered firmly, gripping her chin in his hand and giving her a little shake. "I said no." Even if he hadn't been determined not to stay before the date even started, he wouldn't have wanted to now. All that talk about death and families at dinner had put him in a rotten mood.
"Let me take you out again, and then we'll see."
"But we're bad at the dating part and good at the kissing part," she said. "But if that's what you want to do, fine." She would've tried pouting but that was beneath her -- at least sober. "No food this time."
He laughed softly and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close against his chest. "No food this time," he agreed. "Maybe next time?" Without waiting for her to answer, he pressed his mouth against hers, nipping gently at her lips.
This is what she'd waited all week for. She pressed her lips closer to his, opening hers in response to his, the familiar sensation overwhelming her. She didn't know what it was about him, but there wasn't anywhere else she wanted to be. She splayed her hands on his back, staying as close as she could to his body.
She felt good against him, so small but so strong, and he started to pull away, to tell her that he would stay. One hand crept to the small of her back, pulling her tight against him, kissing her so deep that he thought he'd never find his way back.
Finally, breathless and hopelessly aroused, he pulled back and stared down at her with a slightly dazed expression on his face. "Hell of a good night kiss," he said softly.
"I wasn't aware that's what it was," she replied, trying to catch her breath. Everything about him was intoxicating, from his smell to his taste. She couldn't get enough of it.
"I was hoping you'd changed your mind."
"Believe me, sweetheart, if I wasn't so fucking stubborn I would," he said, running his fingers through her hair. "One more date. Deal?"
"You said that last time." She knew she was sounding whiny, but in the comfort of her own home, she could be whatever she wanted to be. "You've managed to resist me this long, and trust me, I've been pretty easy so far." She reached up and caught one of his hands in hers. Playing with his fingers, she tried to smile.
"Did I say that last time?" he asked, laughing softly. "I don't remember." He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it, brushing a bit of hair back from her face. "I promise, though. Next time."
His mind was obviously made up and Pepper Potts was not a beggar. "Fine," she said, pulling her hand back and crossing her arms. "You know how to get a hold of me." She was not pleased with the turn of events, but she'd done all she could.
"I do," he said. "And I will." He didn't like leaving her in a bad mood, but he was determined. Lord knew why; he'd had his reasons, but damned if he could remember them now, with her staring up at him. "I promise."
And he was going to leave. And she was acting like a spoiled child. "Can I have one more kiss before you go?"
"Yes, ma'am, you certainly can," he laughed. He leaned down and kissed her again, gentle and slightly reserved this time. No sense making it harder on himself, after all.
God, she wanted him so badly, but whether she liked it or not, she had to respect his decision. Stepping into the kiss, she whispered, "Well, whenever you're ready, let me know. I'll wait."
"And I'll call you." He touched her cheek briefly, then stepped back out the door and stood in the hallway for a moment. God, what an idiot he was. Sighing, he walked out of the building and back out onto the street. At least there were other things to occupy his mind...